


A Friend Request From Insommnia

by scorpionmother



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Attraction, Fluff, M/M, Massage, Sexual Tension, Sleepiness, Stress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7695034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpionmother/pseuds/scorpionmother
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will can't sleep feeling the weight of his role as protector.  Wolfgang is on hand to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend Request From Insommnia

Dawn breaks like a bruise over the city, the ever running down town trains a livid noise against the brightening skyline. Steam from the wet streets rises, the fetid smells of a sordid night of sin seemingly looking for redemption, as they drift heavenward into the stained blue. The city resonates in his blood, often like a disease, tepid and sluggish but it is home, and he needs this constant in his sudden, ever changing existence. Since his second birth he can travel in both body and mind. He has opened his eyes to the spice scented, heavy saffron coloured heat of Mumbai with Kala’s delicate and graceful hands dancing over the skin of his face, her umber eyes deep with empathy, unspoken sadness and longing. Escaped to the bracing cold of a slate grey Icelandic beach at sunset, after a ‘car crash’ of a day, a flash of silver and blue silken strands and the peal of Riley’s impish laugh thrown back over her shoulder as she races away, taunting him to chase her. To catch her bird-like form against him, to pull her into the protection of his body finding her cool lips with his until she slips away into nothingness and he lets her go, to remain unfettered, the fey creature she is. He is linked to all of them, their best and their worst and he loves them and every part of them unconditionally. 

His hands curve around the heavy mug of black coffee, generously sweetened in an attempt to negate the tiredness that permeates his body and mind due to another almost sleepless night. Sleep has become an infrequent visitor and he misses it – in the past it was never an issue despite everything he’s experienced and seen. He wonders if it is linked to his need to protect them all. He knows this need to protect is absolute, it is as much part of himself as his need for oxygen and he cannot, will not renege on it but it comes at a heavy price, one that it seems is not suffered by the other protector. Wolfgang sleeps easy between his, or the sheets of countless others. He wonders if it is due to their differing perceptions of what protection is. His is empathic, a wish to keep the others safe and yet not cause harm to anyone unless absolutely necessary. His darker half demonstrates a recklessness with all the lives around him, linked to him or not, but most especially his own. There is a blankness, a coldness that exists in Wolfgang and although his version of protection is repelled by it, he accepts it as a necessary evil in the daily battle they face and is strangely drawn to it a fact he tries hard not to dwell on. 

“That’s your problem Bulle, you think too much.” The clipped drawl cuts through his musings and he turns to find the German sprawled on the couch looking like he’s just come out of the shower. His blonde hair is darkened and flattened to his head and he is naked apart from a loose pair of grey jersey running shorts pulled low on his corded abdomen. As his eyes drift down the strong body in front of him, he is struck as always by the sheer male physicality of him and his innate sexuality that he seems to wear like a second skin. Before the Cluster he’d never considered another man’s body as anything other than to aspire to, as a measure of his own fitness or muscular definition. But now, especially when faced with the uber-sexuality of the German Sensate, he finds his mind considering possibilities that bring a stain to his cheeks.

A faint smile stretches Wolfgang’s mouth as he gets up from the sofa and saunters towards him his feet leaving damp marks on the wooden flooring. His hands run firmly up his arms onto his shoulders digging his fingers experimentally into the muscles under Will’s Blackhawk’s T-shirt. “You’re so tense Bärchen, no wonder you can’t sleep. Come I’ll give you a massage.” He makes his way into the bedroom confident in the offer being accepted, calling back over this shoulder, “And bring some oil if you have it. Olive is fine or something like that unless you have a stash of massage oil anywhere.” He can hear the smirk in the German’s voice and again heat rises to his face.

On entering his bedroom after a rapid search of his rather meager cooking supplies, he finds Wolfgang has been busy. The duvet has been stripped back and a towel has been laid on the mattress. The blind has been pulled down, muting the hazy sunlight to dusk. Silently Will hands the bottle of oil over to Wolfgang, pulls his T-shirt over his head and goes to lie down on his stomach.

“Nein. All of it.”

For a moment he hesitates. Not because he’s embarrassed of his body or being naked in front of a man; a habitual user of the gym and years of showering and changing in the locker room down at the station has made it common place. But in front of this man, a man to whom despite all his past history he finds himself so physically attracted to, is something he doesn’t altogether feel ready for. But Wolfgang’s eyes are off him, pouring the oil from the bottle and then warming it between his palms. Quickly he slips down the worn, baggy shorts he usually sleeps in and stretches out on the towel raising his arms above his head. Already he feels more relaxed, the anticipation of hands working the knots and kinks out of his muscles, soothing his sleep deprived brain and body. The mattress dips as the other man sits on the bed and then suddenly he feels him straddling his body, sitting lightly on his upper thighs. Will registers that he has not removed his shorts and for a split second he feels a faint regret, that Wolfgang seems to sense, as a chuckle rumbles out of his chest. He can smell the cool, grassy scent of the oil and then his skin feels slick hands placed upon his lower back and then sliding firmly up towards his shoulders. He can’t suppress the groan of utter pleasure as the pressure increases with every sweep up his back to his shoulders.

“Good, ja? “and all Will can do is his moan his agreement and appreciation as the strong hands knead the solid muscles of his shoulders and upper arms. The pads of the long fingers lingeringly work their magic, finding the knots and working them loose one by one, delving at times so deep, almost to the point of pain but it is good, it feels almost indecently good. He is acutely aware of the faint roughness on the pads of the other man’s fingers and his palms, a friction not fully exacerbated by the oil but he enjoys it and finds his mind wondering how he feels under the other man’s hands.

Another of those throaty chuckles breaks the silence and his train of thought, “You feel good under my hands Bullen, maybe a little too good, considering how tired you are. Remember I can ‘hear’ your thoughts.”

“I…” but he is immediately silenced by a slick finger pressing to his lips.

“Shush, think too much, talk too much too. Relax, enjoy it.” And then the silence is filled by the soft hum of a melody as the talented fingers and hands continue to work the muscles of his shoulders, and oblique’s, easing the strain of weeks of pent up stress and then stroking down to knead his buttocks and finally his legs. He can hardly remember ever feeling so at peace and at ease, and the fact that the one person providing this is last person he would have ever thought possible to and yet it feels right, in fact it feels perfect. It feels right to submit to the will of another, something he’s always fought against, and perfect that that will is Wolfgang’s.

After what feels a long time and little by little the pressure of the massage is lessened, turning instead into gentle stroking up and down his back to his shoulders and back, this, together with the warmth of the room and the song that the German is still humming slowly begins to work its soporific magic, and without meaning to, he yawns loudly.

“Gut, gut. Now you sleep.” He feels Wolfgang slowly lift his body off his and off the bed and although his mind is falling into oblivion he knows he does not want to sleep alone. Blindly he reaches out and connects with his hand still slightly slick with the oil the other man’s used to such amazing effect.

“Don’t go, stay with me.” Will can hear his own voice is thick with sleep and wonders for a moment if he actually uttered the words. There is a moment of stillness and he tries to blink back the sleep that threatens to overcome him but just as he thinks that the German has gone, the bed dips and he rolls his body on his side as Wolfgang presses the length of his front against his back.

He tries to say thank you but the need to fall into the darkness is too great and the last thing he remembers is soft lips pressed to the nape of his neck and a heavy arm circling his waist.

**Author's Note:**

> I just love all of the Sensates but have a massive crush on Will and Wolfgang so just had to write something with them together. At the moment this is a fluff one shot but I might add to it at a later date. Hope people enjoy!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always lovely to receive


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